


The Protector

by loves_books



Category: A-Team - All Media Types, The A-Team (2010)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the team are taken prisoner for unknown reasons, BA draws the attention and anger of their captors in order to protect his lover, Face, as well as his teammates, until they can find a way to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Protector

_Now_

He was starting to regret not letting Hannibal give him the morphine. The haze of lesser painkillers left him sleepy but awake, too distracted by the dull throb of all his injuries to slip fully into that comforting blanket of darkness. BA shifted uncomfortably on the bed, biting back a gasp as his ribs reminded him they were broken in several places. An unexpected voice made him start, causing another wave of pain to ripple through his body, and he groaned involuntarily.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

BA rolled his head carefully on the pillow until he was looking over at the door, though he had to wait until the room stopped spinning and his vision cleared before he could make out his visitor. Though he knew who it was, of course. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Tryin’,” he grunted in response to Face’s soft statement. “Failin’, so far.”

He watched as Face made his way slowly across the room before settling carefully on the edge of the bed and setting his crutches aside. In the dim light from the open doorway, he studied his lover’s profile carefully – to anyone else, Face would appear absolutely fine, if a little tired perhaps, but BA could see the edge of pain there mixed with something unfamiliar. Concern and worry, for him, he knew.

“You need to sleep,” Face murmured softly, reaching out to run a careful hand across BA’s forehead, avoiding the bruises. “You have to sleep.”

He would have shrugged, but he knew just how much that would hurt right now so he settled for a distraction instead. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Face huffed an incredulous little laugh, long fingers stroking up into BA’s hair. “I should be asking you that, surely.”

“You’re hurt.” Definitely pain in his lover’s eyes – Face hated taking pain medication, saying it always made him feel nauseous.

“It’s just a broken ankle. You’re hurt worse.”

“I know.” No way to argue with that statement, BA thought, glancing down at his battered body. The bedroom was warm and so Murdock had just pulled the sheet up to his waist before leaving him to rest, leaving his torso on display. The clean white bandages covering the worst of his wounds stood out starkly against his dark skin, criss-crossing his chest and wrapping around his arms. Smaller dressings were taped into place over the deeper cuts and burns – more white than black on display right now, he realised with a sigh.

“Bosco…” Face frowned, clearly looking down at the bandages himself, as if fully realising the extent of BA’s wounds for the first time. He’d known, of course he’d known. He’d watched it happen, helped carry him out to the van after it was all over, or helped as much as he could, but seeing the aftermath… Face had needed to go to the hospital to get his broken ankle x-rayed, set and plastered, while BA’s own injuries were nothing the team couldn’t deal with themselves. It was just that there were a whole lot of them. 

Leaving one hand resting gently in BA’s hair, Face trailed his other hand slowly over the dressings, clever fingers not putting any pressure on the injuries. Countless stitches, from the knife wounds and the slash marks inflicted on his body. Burns, from the lighters they’d held to his skin. No bandages necessary for the bruising of course, not that those showed too well on BA’s dark skin, but Face still seemed to find them, calloused fingertips so very gentle. So different from the way Face usually touched him when they were alone together.

Too different. It shouldn’t be like that, between them. Face’s touch should leave him burning with desire, not feeling delicate like fine china. “I’m okay, Temp,” he mumbled, immediately wincing as his lover brushed over one of those broken ribs.

“No, you’re not.” Face lifted that exploring hand away, his frown deeper. “Damn it, man…”

“Face, don’t – ”

“No, listen to me. All the times you’ve lectured me about pulling stunts like this, all those times… Every time I do something like this you threaten to beat me into the ground once I get back on my feet.” Face was right about that, BA knew, but he didn’t regret anything he’d done. Nor anything that had been done to him. “And you know Hannibal is just waiting for you to feel a bit better before he tears you a new one.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t have done this.” Steel and determination in Face’s quiet voice, but it was BA’s turn to frown now.

“I disagree.” 

He watched his lover bite his lip before Face shook his head slowly, clearly taking a deep breath to calm himself. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and steady, yet still firm. “We’ll talk about this more, you know that, right? I would’ve been okay. I’m stronger than you think.”

“I know you’re strong, but I wasn’t – I couldn’t watch that.” The pain was starting to build again now, and BA closed his eyes with a tired wince. “Later, Temp, please…”

“Ssh. I’m here, just rest.” BA felt the bed shift and cracked one eyelid open to see Face lifting his broken ankle gingerly onto the mattress before stretching carefully out beside BA. The whole time, those clever fingers were stroking through BA’s Mohawk, and he just let himself focus on that soft touch rather than the throb of his battered muscles and torn skin. 

Eventually, Face came to rest close by his side, right where BA needed him to be. A gentle hand settled on his stomach, rubbing comforting circles just below his navel – the only patch of unmarked skin Face could see – and BA felt sleep finally drift within his grasp. It amazed him how his lover always knew exactly what he needed, even when BA didn’t realise it himself.

Letting his eyes close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of Face, BA felt more at peace than he had since the start of the whole, disastrous mission. But before he finally fell into the healing sleep he knew he needed, he found the strength to speak one more time. 

“I’m not sorry,” he breathed, and he heard Face huff another soft laugh, a painful laugh.

“I know,” his lover murmured in reply, his voice sounding a little choked. Warm lips pressed a gentle kiss to BA’s forehead, and quiet words were whispered in his ear. “Sleep now. We’ll talk later.”

And BA finally slipped into the darkness, knowing Face would keep watch and keep him safe. And then there would be long and difficult conversations, he was sure. Later, though. Not now.

 

_Then_

Face tried again to take some weight on his right ankle, but the spike of sheer agony that shot up his leg as soon as his toes brushed the ground just confirmed his suspicion that it was broken. That was going to make escaping even harder, he knew, not that it would be particularly easy even without that extra challenge.

The team were in a large basement of some kind, set up almost like a home gym with weights and benches pushed haphazardly into a corner. On the wall directly opposite Face, Murdock hung limply from the ropes tied tight around his wrists and attached to a hook far above his head. The pilot hadn’t stirred since they’d been hauled in here, and Face was starting to worry. A shallow cut on his best friend’s left temple and a visibly spreading bruise, but no other obvious injuries at least.

At Murdock’s side, BA was similarly strung up, as were Face and Hannibal, the colonel hanging beside Face on his side of the room. They were all roughly gagged with thick cloth, making speech impossible, but they’d never needed words to communicate. Meeting Hannibal’s steady blue-grey eyes, Face nodded in response to the slightly raised eyebrow – his ankle hurt like hell, but he was otherwise fine. Hannibal just nodded once in reply before dropping his head back slowly to rest against the wall, his gaze drifting again to the solid door in the far corner of the room.

As clear a signal as any, Face knew. Stay calm and wait – they’d been taken for a reason, obviously, not roughed up since the crash, and this part was straight out of Torture 101. String up your victims and make them wait. Anticipation was the worst thing usually, but whoever had taken them had made the mistake of keeping all four of them together in the same room. Face was confident that, as soon as the first opportunity presented itself, they’d be gone.

Bosco’s dark eyes found his at that moment, and Face found his heartbeat settled even more as he took in his lover. BA was beyond pissed, that much was obvious, but focussed and determined. The way his arms were pulled high above his head made the other man’s huge biceps and shoulder muscles incredibly obvious, and he couldn’t have looked much more intimidating if he’d tried. In Face’s admittedly biased opinion, he couldn’t have looked much hotter either.

But the pain from his ankle, not to mention the whole being strung up and gagged thing, was enough to thrown ice water over Face’s burgeoning arousal. Time for that once they were out of here, and once he’d swallowed a whole lot of painkillers. 

BA’s big muscles flexed and strained as he tugged ineffectually on his bonds. Face just shook his head once – he’d tried repeatedly to get free, even balanced on one leg as he was, and his wrists were just secured too tightly, no give at all in the ropes. If any of them could have gotten free, it would be BA, but Face doubted even the big guy could get out of this without some assistance. Hannibal had long since stopped trying, appearing to be the very picture of calm and confidence as he waited for something to happen, and Face drew in a deep and calming breath of his own as he tried to copy his colonel.

Sooner than he’d expected – another clear sign their kidnappers were, at best, inexperienced – there came the grating sound of keys in a lock, and Face drew himself up as tall as he could manage as the door swung slowly open with an ominous creak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hannibal similarly straighten even further to his full impressive height, while across the room his lover squared his broad shoulders and settled his features into a glare that would strike fear into the hearts of any lesser men. Murdock, rather worryingly, didn’t move at all, still hanging limp from the ropes.

Face kept his own expression carefully neutral as five huge men filed into the room, all dressed in black suits over black shirts, wearing dark sunglasses. All with the kind of big, bulky muscles you only got from steroids. Walking clichés the whole lot of them, and Face felt even more certain that the team would all walk away from this in one piece. Or hobble, in his case, at least.

Except… He had to admit that their capture had been incredibly well-coordinated. The three black vans that had shot out of a side road at high speed, boxing in the team’s own van quickly in spite of some of BA’s more creative driving. Running them straight off the road, forcing them to crash. Murdock already unconscious before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop, after being thrown hard against the windscreen, Face trying desperately not to scream as his ankle and foot were trapped between the seat and the buckled side door. BA growling and ready to fight, but Hannibal ordering them all to settle down as at least a dozen men in black swarmed the van and dragged them out. Too many guns, too many men, and half the team injured – they had to save their strength, and so they’d offered only token resistance as they were bound, gagged and hooded. Driven here, wherever ‘here’ was, and strung up with not a single word spoken to them.

Now it finally looked like someone might reveal why they’d been captured. Not military, certainly, so bounty hunters possibly, or just someone they’d pissed off during their years on the run. The five men took up positions on either side of the door, before another three men entered the room, two in those same black suits and one dressed in white. Not at all obvious as the man in charge, Face thought, and he would have snorted with laughter if the rag stuffed in his mouth hadn’t started to slip a little too far back in his throat. Damn, he needed the gag off and out soon – being gagged with a silk scarf by Bosco’s strong yet loving hands was one thing, but foul-tasting cotton tied far too tightly was not so much fun.

As if reading his mind, the white-suited man nodded once and his two immediate companions crossed towards where the team hung. For a second Face considered letting his wrists take his weight and kicking out with his one good leg, but the five original guards all drew guns at that moment. Choreographed, Face thought with a mental smile, clearly designed to terrify them with a show of strength, but in actuality not so scary at all. They’d all faced far worse than suited men in a clean, neat basement.

At another gesture from the man in white, the gags were untied from Face and BA before being pulled from their mouths. Coughing slightly and swallowing hard to try to clear the foul taste, he wondered how appropriate a sarcastic comment would be at that moment, but a quick sideways glance at Hannibal had him biting his tongue again. Wait, and be calm. 

The man in white was far from the most impressive of villains, if villain he was. Not so tall, not so handsome. Of Italian or Mediterranean descent perhaps, Face thought, taking in the deeply tanned olive skin and jet black hair, his piercing dark eyes staring at the team one by one as if assessing them. 

Wait and be calm was one thing, but as the minutes dragged by Face couldn’t stay silent any longer. The scrutiny was making him slightly edgy. “Why don’t you take a picture, asshole?” he snapped, almost able to feel the wave of disapproval from Hannibal. “It’ll last longer.”

“Oh, this could last a long time, Lieutenant Peck, or it could all be over in a few painless moments.” The man in white grinned at them, and Face narrowed his eyes. “I just need to know a few simple facts, then you will all be free to go. Of course, if you choose not to tell me what I need to know, then this could become… Unpleasant.” At that, the gorillas in the black suits all laughed on cue, weapons still drawn and ready. 

“That’s all you want? You could’ve just given us a phone call,” Face told him, forcing a wide smile of his own, his very best ‘I’m completely innocent’ expression. “Or, y’know, dropped us an email. Or a good old-fashioned letter – no one ever writes a proper letter anymore, isn’t that such a shame?”

“Ah, but then I would’ve missed the pleasure of your sparkling company, Lieutenant.” The man in white snapped his fingers, and two of the guards moved to flank Hannibal, guns trained steadily on the colonel. “All I need to know is: where is my money?”

Face locked eyes with Bosco across the room, seeing his own confusion echoed in those dark eyes. A sideways glance at Hannibal showed the same blank expression on the older man’s face. “Sorry, but who the hell are you, exactly?” he asked, with a barked laugh. 

“You know exactly who I am, Lieutenant,” came the predictable response, and Face just frowned deeply. He genuinely had no idea who the man was, and he prided himself on never forgetting a face. 

“Seriously, man, you’ll have to refresh our memories.” Face flashed another grin, apologetic this time. Desperately trying to search through his memory for a clue as to who their captor might be. “In our line of business we meet a lot of people, busy being in demand, lots of parties, mixers, I’m sure you know how it goes – ”

“You steal from a lot of people too?” Anger in the man’s voice now, and another snap of his fingers. A gun was pressed to Hannibal’s throat, and Face could see his colonel swallow involuntarily. “I want my money, and I want to know what happened to Carlos. Tell me that, and you can go.”

Before Face could question any further, BA spoke up from across the room. “Who the hell is Carlos, man? And what money?” 

“I want my money,” the man in white shouted out, his hands tensed into fists by his sides. He stalked slowly across the room, stopping in front of Murdock’s limp body, and Face tugged again at the ropes that held him immobile. “And as I said, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” 

“Actually, you never said that.” As soon as the smart words left his mouth, Face wished he could take them back. The man in white had a hand on their pilot’s chin now, lifting his head up and tilting it from side to side, as if inspecting him. Any hope Face had that Murdock was feigning unconsciousness faded away as he got a good look at his friend’s pale face for the first time. “Get your hands off him, man.”

“Oh, you’re hardly in a position to make threats, Lieutenant.” But the man did let go, and Murdock’s head dropped forwards once more, his body swinging slightly from the ropes. “And I think my meaning was implied, if not perhaps explicit. I assumed you were smart enough to figure that out. And I do believe your team are smart, Colonel Smith, after all you managed to steal a cool three million out from under my nose.”

Face met BA’s gaze once more, shaking his head incredulously. Three million dollars? They’d never done a job involving that much money, and they certainly weren’t thieves. Who the hell was this lunatic? At another gesture from the man in question, the gag was finally untied from Hannibal’s mouth, though the gun at his neck wasn’t lowered. “You think we stole three million dollars from you?” Hannibal rasped, his voice rough from the gag. “And you think we did something to someone named Carlos?”

“See? I said you were smart.” The man in white stepped back towards the door, folding his arms across his chest in a manner that would have been far more impressive if he was taller and more muscled. “Now, one more time before we begin the fun. Where is my money?”

Face nearly bit clean through his tongue as he waited for Hannibal’s response. Perhaps the colonel recognised this man where Face didn’t. Perhaps it was someone from years ago, though the man in white didn’t look more than thirty or so. Still, Hannibal would know what to say, surely. Hannibal always had a plan. 

He turned his head to watch as his colonel stared hard at the man in white, those blue-grey eyes still steady, a slight frown hovering on his brow. After a long moment, Hannibal shook his head slowly, heaving a soft sigh, and Face’s heart sank at the older mans’ next words. “I’m sorry. I have absolutely no idea who you are, nor who Carlos is. And I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Then the fun starts here.” Their captor stared at BA for a brief moment before sliding his gaze over Murdock’s unconscious form, finally letting his eyes settle on Face. A slow smile spread across his features as he nodded to himself thoughtfully. “Oh yes, let’s start the fun. Any of you speak up at any time, and all this stops, you understand? I want my money – ”

“ – And you want to know about Carlos, yeah, we get it. But you gotta give us a clue, man, come on!” Face tried again to get through to the man in white, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as the shorter man snapped his fingers. Choreographed, completely, but quite effective this time – one of the larger of the men in black suits tucked his gun back in his holster before marching straight over to stand close in front of Face, right up in his personal space. A big man, a seriously big man, bulging muscles straining against the dark material of his suit. The type of man with no neck to speak of, a few inches taller than Face. The dark sunglasses gave Face only the reflection of his own eyes, no hint of the person behind, and despite himself he found he was pressing back into the wall behind him. This wasn’t going to go well.

“Barclay here hasn’t been allowed to have any fun for quite some time,” the man in white announced cheerfully, as if he was discussing the weather. “And he was a close friend of Carlos.”

“Back off, buddy,” Face hissed as Barclay leaned closer still, and a meaty hand brushed deliberately over his groin, knuckles pressing firmly over the buttons of his fly. “Seriously, get the fuck off me…”

“You don’t need to do this,” Hannibal tried to reason with the man in white, though Face couldn’t tear his eyes away from his own reflection in Barclay’s ridiculous sunglasses. “Give us some more details, tell me your name, tell me – ”

“No!” A scream, practically, and Face winced as that meaty hand suddenly grabbed hold of his most precious body parts, squeezing far too tightly. He squirmed in the iron grip, trying to ease the pressure off his groin, but a slight twist from Barclay brought him to a gasping stop as a sudden jolt of pain seared through his lower body. “No more information, no more details – you stop lying and you tell me what I need to know. Barclay!” At the sound of his name, the beefy guard smirked a very deliberate grin and tightened his hold on Face’s genitals, bringing his other hand up to start undoing first his belt then the buttons of his jeans.

“Don’t – ” Face hissed, but he’d barely spoken before Barclay very deliberately kicked at his broken ankle. This time he couldn’t hold back the agonised scream, and the world actually faded to black for the briefest moment as he fought the urge to either vomit or simply pass out. Only a brief moment, though it was long enough for Barclay to get Face’s jeans open and down to his thighs, even as the twin shouts of anger from Hannibal and BA echoed in the room. 

So it was going to go down like this. How original, Face thought dimly, even as the gorilla in black grabbed at his crotch once again before spinning him around on his ropes and slamming him face first into the wall. Wouldn’t be the first time, though it would certainly be the first time it had happened in front of his whole team, and the first time since he and Bosco had finally given in to their mutual lust, both of them surprised when it had developed into a deep love which had lasted for more than two years so far and seemed to grow every day. At least Murdock wouldn’t have to watch, Face thought as his briefs were abruptly yanked down, exposing his ass cheeks to the cool air of the room, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to find some distance from the whole thing.

Hannibal had gone still and silent, that threatening gun almost certainly pressing too hard into the colonel’s throat now, but at that moment there was an almighty roar that could only have come from BA. “Get your filthy hands off him, asshole! Don’t you even dare touch him!”

Eyes still closed, body still braced for assault, Face was surprised to hear laughter before the distinctive voice of the man in white spoke up again. “Oh really? And what is it to you, Corporal Baracus? You can stop it, you know, if you only tell me where my money is.”

“We don’t know nothin’ about your damn money, fool!” Face had rarely heard his lover quite so angry or frustrated, and he could picture the big guy yanking hard on his ropes, trying to get free. Trying to protect him. “You dare touch him again and I’ll – ”

“You’ll what?” Another snap of his fingers and strong hands seized Face’s hips in a bruising grip. Another roar of anger from Bosco, but Face tried to relax himself as best he could, forcing himself to go limp rather than struggling. He’d only end up hurting himself more by fighting at this point. “Ah, how sweet! And there was I thinking it was Colonel Smith who was fucking his lieutenant all these years, but in actuality… How unexpected!”

Barclay’s bulky body pressed against Face, and instinctively he tried to twist away from the hard pressure he could feel in the bigger man’s trousers. Pants still on, at least for now. “Any chance we can talk about this?” he gasped, but Bosco’s frantic voice overruled him.

“Leave him alone, I tell you. Leave him the hell alone – you want to play with someone, play with me!” 

“Stand down, Corporal.” That was Hannibal, his voice barely more than a whisper but the authority in his words clear to everyone in the room. “Listen, whoever you are, there’s no need to do this. We simply can’t tell you things we don’t know.”

“Sadly, I don’t believe you, Colonel Smith.” Another snap of fingers from white suit man, and by now Face was dearly wishing he could literally snap those fingers in half. But the hands on his hips were suddenly gone, his briefs tugged back up, and he felt the change in pressure as Barclay stepped away from him. “I believe you know exactly where my money is, and what happened to my man. And this way could be far more interesting, I think…”

At that, Face’s eyes snapped back open, and he somehow managed to twist back around to face the room, his jeans still bunched around his thighs, his ankle screaming with pain, his chest tight with both relief and dread. He managed to catch Bosco’s eyes just as the first punch was thrown, knocking all the air from his lover’s lungs. The second punch fell barely a second later, then a third as two more men in black closed in around BA, and then Face stopped trying to count as the sound of fists pounding into solid flesh became all he could hear.

 

_Now_

It was the pain that dragged BA back into consciousness, though somehow he knew it was still night time. Knew he should be sleeping, resting, letting his body recover. But he hurt, he really hurt now – every shallow breath sent waves of pain through his chest, every tiny shift of his body felt like his muscles would tear apart completely. His burns were on fire once again, the dressings too constricting, and he fought the urge to start tearing the bandages off. That wouldn’t help anything, he knew.

But through the pain, there was a sense of warmth and comfort. A heavy weight on his left shoulder, and that did hurt a fair bit, pressing right over some particularly deep bruising and a shallow stab wound, but BA couldn’t find the strength to move enough to shift whatever it was. He really didn’t want to have to shout out for Hannibal, or for Face, but – 

Face. Of course it was Face, and at that very moment the weight on his shoulder shifted position ever so slightly, easing the worst of the pressure, allowing BA to recognise the feel of his lover’s soft curls on his bare skin. Soft huffs of breath ghosted across his bandaged chest as Face slept on, his presence alone enough to banish the worst of BA’s pain. Face was here, alive and safe, and BA could bear his pain a little longer while his lover slept.

In sleep, Face had rolled closer to BA, one hand still resting protectively over BA’s stomach, one leg slipping between BA’s. They usually slept twined together, or spooned up close, and BA relished the feel of his lover’s firm chest pressed against his side despite the ache of his injuries. He wanted to touch, wanted to reconnect with his partner, tried to lift his arm to pull Face even closer, but as soon as he tensed his muscles his battered body reminded him exactly why that was a very bad idea indeed. Despite himself, he let a groan of pain slip from his lips, and Face’s head was up in an instant, bleary blue eyes blinking open, fingers flexing gently where they rested on BA’s stomach.

“Bosco? Stay still, baby – what do you need?” A sign of how worried Face was – they rarely used pet names for each other, neither of them feeling they were either appropriate or necessary. “Painkiller?”

He could only manage a grunt in response, a single nod of his head, and watched as Face hauled himself carefully to a sitting position with a wince before leaning backwards to grab something from the bedside table. A moment later, Face pushed a pill between BA’s lips and a gentle hand lifted his head up enough to sip from the glass of water that was held to his lips.

“Give it a moment to kick in,” Face whispered as he eased BA’s head back down onto the pillows. “You should’ve woken me sooner, I didn’t mean to fall asleep…”

“Wasn’t so bad before.” BA let Face fuss over him for a minute, those long-fingered hands soothing over the dressings on his chest. “It’s just, y’know. Been a while.”

Face smiled, though BA recognised it as a fake and empty smile. “A while since you got beat to a pulp?” the other man murmured. “A while since you goaded eight men into hitting you, and cutting you, and – ”

“I know what they did, Temp. I was there, remember?” An involuntary shudder passed through his body, and he moaned again as his muscles spasmed and his burns throbbed. 

“Were you?” Face’s words were light, and he even leaned down to kiss BA on the lips with just the barest of pressure. But BA knew his lover well, saw where Face was going with this. Still wasn’t ready to talk about it, but… “It didn’t seem like it was you, back there. That’s the kind of stupid stunt I usually pull, remember?”

“Means it’s usually you lyin’ in bed battered and bruised. Means it’s usually me worryin’ and frettin’.” And it usually was Face, they both knew that – Face was so often the one directly in the line of fire when one of Hannibal’s plans turned bad, so often the one who would leap into danger to protect the others. It was one of the things BA both loved and hated about him in equal parts. “This time, I had the chance to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“And I told you, you didn’t need to do that.”

“But I wanted to. I had to.” BA stared hard into Face’s eyes, so very blue even in the dim light of their room. “It gave Hannibal a chance to figure out what the hell was goin’ on, gave Murdock time to get free. Kept you from gettin’…” He couldn’t say it. Such an ugly word, for truly ugly act. Face, of course, had no such problem.

“…Raped.” The word hung in the air between them, the silence suddenly so thick and loaded with tension. “You saved me from getting raped, Bosco, and it’s not that I’m not grateful. I really, I mean, I am, I just…”

Finding strength from somewhere, or perhaps it was just the painkiller kicking in at last, BA managed to lift one hand from the bed long enough to capture his lover’s, where Face was still stroking gently over his chest. “No other way, Temp,” he whispered, trying to pour all the love he felt for the other man into his words. “There was no other way.”

Seemingly speechless for once in his life, Face just shook his head slowly, closing his fingers tightly around BA’s. For a long moment they just breathed together, slow and calm, before BA was surprised to recognise the first glint of tears in his lover’s eyes. He tugged gently on the hand he still held in his own, and after another minute Face lay back down willingly at his side, keeping a deliberate gap between their bodies this time. 

“Do you need anything?” Face murmured eventually, the tiniest wince passing over his own features as he shifted slightly on the bed. Belatedly, BA remembered about his lover’s ankle, broken and in plaster.

“Need you to take a painkiller too, then sleep.” Face opened his mouth as if to argue, but BA pressed right on. “You can’t fuss over me if you’re hurtin’ as well. And I expect to be fussed over.” That got a tiny smile onto his lover’s lips. “I’m okay, Temp, it’s not so bad now.” And it wasn’t, really, the worse of the pain already dulled by the drugs in his system. Drugs were wonderful, BA thought sleepily, as his eyes drifted shut of their own accord.

A kiss ghosted across his lips. “Love you, Bosco,” Face whispered into the quiet of the night, but before BA could say it back, he was asleep once more.

 

_Then_

They started with the small, simple things. Fists pounding into hard flesh over and over again, each punch aimed deliberately at vulnerable areas. Torture 101, Face thought again, in horror this time as the three gorillas in black suits worked methodically over BA’s bulky body. It was coordinated, he realised dimly after the first few minutes had passed – each man was punching the same place three, four times, a technique designed to let the pain grow to maximum and break through the stoic wall of silence BA had thrown up.

Aside from the occasional grunt as the air was knocked again from his lungs, BA hadn’t said another word. Not a moan, not a gasp. Certainly not a scream, though Face knew from bitter experience the level of pain his lover must have been in already. Focussed punches, from each of the three men, one of them working on that broad chest while the other two focussed on BA’s flat stomach. Was it just Face’s imagination or had he actually heard the snap of ribs breaking?

Face had tried talking, the first few minutes of the assault. Not threatening, like BA had done, just talking, trying again to convince the man in the white suit that they really had no idea just who the hell he was. Face had no reason to doubt Hannibal when he’d said he didn’t know the man, no reason at all to doubt the colonel he’d followed since he was just a teenager, and that really didn’t bode well for how this was going to go from here on in. He’d been so convinced they’d get out of this easily – showed just how fast things could turn sour, he thought grimly, even as he made another attempt to convince the man in white.

“Come on, man, just give us your name.” A loud thud as another punch landed low on BA’s stomach. “We can have that friendly chat, just like you wanted. First name terms are so much more intimate than all this drama, right?” Three rapid thuds in succession, something that could have been another rib snapping in two, and BA grunted. “You don’t have to do it this way. You want us to talk? You gotta talk to us too!”

It seemed that the man in white ran out of patience with him at that moment, and an angry gesture to one of the unoccupied black suits soon had Face roughly gagged once again, that foul tasting cloth shoved far back in his mouth and tied tightly. As if that wasn’t enough of a signal to shut the hell up, the unmistakeable cold steel of a gun was pushed hard against his ribs, right over his heart, and he tried to settle, breathing hard through his nose, straining to see around the man to the other side of the room. 

He couldn’t see much of his lover at all, really. Could see those strong arms still tied and hauled high above BA’s head, could just about see the occasional glimpse of dark eyes pinched shut with pain. Could only really see those three men in black suits, though one of them had slipped his jacket off at some point, perhaps to get a better swing at his punches. And those punches just kept falling, harder and faster. No chance for BA to speak, if that was the aim of it all, though Face knew it wasn’t.

Torture 101, how original. This was all designed to get Hannibal to speak up, the team’s commander supposedly motivated to protect the men under his command. But Face knew that Hannibal, like himself, had been through this enough times to know that speaking up would solve nothing, even if they did know what the hell the man in white was going on about. Even if they told him exactly where his supposed three million dollars were, even if they magically produced this Carlos from a side room, they wouldn’t be walking away from here anytime soon. 

But as the minutes dragged by and BA’s grunts grew louder and more frequent, Face found himself wishing that Hannibal would say something, anything, to stop this. Bosco was tough, yes, the strongest man Face had ever known, but this… Damn, he was going to have words with his lover when they finally got out of this mess. How was this better than Face putting up with a brief assault? This seemed never-ending, just punch after punch, grunt after grunt. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours but had probably been no more than thirty minutes, the man in the white suit snapped his fingers again. Just like that, the three trained gorillas dropped their fists, all of them barely breathing hard, and stepped back from BA’s battered body, allowing Face the first good look at his lover since the attack began. Bosco hung limply in his ropes, boots scrabbling on the floor as he tried to get his feet back under him, dark head stubbornly raised and eyes blinking slowly back open. Aside from a trickle of blood from his left nostril, and a distinctive swelling around his right eye, they hadn’t touched his face at all – with his shirt still on, there were few visible signs of the beating he’d just endured. 

Face could see the twitch in his bulging biceps and triceps, though, as Bosco tried to get his pain under control. Could hear the rasp beneath shaky breathing as cracked and broken ribs tried to expand. Could see the agony already present in dark eyes as Bosco lifted his eyes to meet Face’s, though there was anger there too, anger at the whole situation, and a deep determination. 

“Have you had the time to think of an answer or two for me?” The white suited man sounded almost bored, as if he was asking about the weather or taking orders for drinks. “I believe you already know the questions.”

“Told you…” Bosco’s voice was a little hoarse, but Face watched as he lifted his head higher and forced his eyes open wide. “Don’t know… the damn answers…”

“He’s telling the truth,” Hannibal stated calmly, and Face turned his head to stare at his colonel as the older man continued. To anyone else, Hannibal was the picture of calm but Face could see the tension in that long lean body, could hear the barely concealed anger in that steady voice. “We don’t know who you are or what happened to Carlos or your money. If someone has told you we did something, blamed something on us – ” At a signal from the man in white, the guard by Hannibal smacked him across the brow with the butt of his gun, and the colonel fell silent with a choked off gasp.

“I know it was you.” Their captor started a slow walk across the room towards Hannibal, past where Murdock hung blessedly unconscious, past where BA was trying desperately to catch his breath, past where Face was still pinned by the gun aimed at his heart. “I know you have the answers I’m looking for. How much will you make your men go through before you tell me what I want to hear?”

Hannibal had to swallow twice before he could reply. “How can I convince you that we simply don’t know?” 

An evil grin appeared on the face of the man in white, and he turned slightly to leer at Face once again. “You can’t, Colonel. But perhaps we should return to Plan A here, and see if we can’t make your Lieutenant scream where we’ve failed with Corporal Baracus. And if that still fails to loosen your tongue, I’m sure we can come up with something creative for Captain Murdock too. We wouldn’t want him to feel left out, after all.”

Face met Bosco’s eyes again across the room, shaking his head as he saw his lover tense his already shaking arms. He managed a growl around the gag in his mouth, a growl designed to settle the other man as well as hopefully intimidate the guards or their captor, though he doubted how effective it was with him tied up at gunpoint, and his jeans still bunched around his upper thighs. 

“No.” Bosco’s voice was stronger, now, than it had been a few minutes ago, but there was still so much pain and anger there that Face growled again, earning him a sharp jab to the ribs from that gun. “Me, not him.”

“Stand down, Corporal,” Hannibal ordered again with a bark, but BA shook his head.

“All due respect, Sir, but no. Me, not him. Not Murdock.” Not you either, Face heard, and could have screamed at the unfairness of it all. Bosco had to be the protector, had to be the strongest one, had to be in control. Face knew it wasn’t that his lover thought he or Murdock were particularly weaker than him, though physically he had to admit that perhaps they were – this was just BA’s way of doing things, his way of keeping them safe until Hannibal came up with a plan, or Face was able to sweet-talk their way out of this whole mess, or until Murdock woke up and did something… Murdock-like.

Face didn’t know if he could watch his lover being beaten any longer, though, not that he appeared to have much choice in the matter. He growled again, more of a strangled scream almost, but the man in white had already turned away from him and headed back across the room towards where BA was once again struggling against the ropes on his wrists. “How fascinating,” he murmured, stopping just far enough away that the leg BA kicked out instinctively swept past him harmlessly. “After all that, you still want more?”

“Don’t want nothin’ but to get you to shut up,” BA stated, forcing a grin to his lips. “And for you to believe we don’t got any idea about your damn money.”

“Leave him,” Hannibal tried, but the white suited man swung back to him, one hand raised in warning.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you, Colonel Smith, unless it is to tell me where my money is, or what happened to my brother.” Face filed that little snippet of information away, knowing Hannibal would have picked up on it too. “If you speak otherwise, your Lieutenant will be shot first, then your Captain.” 

The gun against Face’s ribs pressed in hard enough that he just knew there would be a bruise, and he watched in horror as one of the remaining men in black stepped close beside Murdock, mirroring the threat. Hannibal fell silent again beside him, and Face could see that gun still held against his colonel’s throat. A bullet through the neck was not a good way to go, though nor was a bullet to the heart. 

“You an’ me then, asshole,” BA hissed, but the man in white just laughed.

Another snap of his fingers, before he backed away to stand against the far wall. “Oh, I hardly think so.”

The gorillas in suits seemed to know exactly what their boss had in mind, though it took Face a few moments to pick up on it. The gym equipment piled in the corner of the room, forgotten until now, was suddenly reached for and shifted around, a long bench eventually freed and dragged out into the middle of the basement. Loose weights were found, carried, piled up beside the bench, and Face felt his chest grow a little tight with true fear for the first time since those vans had appeared behind them. 

No one knew where the team was, no one was expecting them home safely for dinner. If they couldn’t get free from these ropes, if they couldn’t find some way to convince the man in white that they really didn’t know what happened to his brother… Well, a long and painful end beckoned for them all. At least they were together, Face thought distantly, though that was slim comfort at that moment as two of the gorillas started to reach up to the ropes holding BA against the wall.

“Same rules apply, Corporal.” An obvious note of warning in their captor’s voice. “First the Lieutenant, then the Captain. I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

After that, time seemed to blur into one horrific moment after another, and Face could do nothing but watch helplessly, tugging uselessly on the ropes that held him still. He could feel the rough fibres cutting painfully into the thin skin of his wrists, could feel the warm blood trickling down his upper arms, though he’d long since lost any sense of feeling in his hands or fingers. 

As he watched Bosco was thrown face down over the bench, and Face’s first and very real terror was that he would have to watch his lover being assaulted in the very same manner that the man in white had planned for him. For a moment, he realised what BA must have felt, that desperation to stop it, to make something else happen, anything else – he couldn’t watch that, couldn’t see his strong and proud lover ripped open by some gorilla in a fancy dress costume. He’d tried to scream out behind his gag, heart thumping hard in his chest beneath that damned gun, but then they turned BA over onto his back and started tying him down to the bench instead, using those extra weights to secure the ropes until the big man could barely move.

Face willed BA to look over at him, just once, just a glance, but his lover kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling the entire time. Even without direct eye contact, he could see grit and determination in the line of Bosco’s jaw, and he knew how much effort it must be taking for the other man not to try to fight back as he let the suited men practically pull his arms from his body in their effort to immobilise him. BA’s breathing, already harsh from the beating, grew even more strained as his shoulders were pulled tight, and Face winced himself to think of the pressure that position must put on his broken ribs, sending up a silent prayer that one of those bone fragments wouldn’t shift and puncture a lung.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, not wanting to watch, feeling about as helpless as he’d ever felt in his life. Where was the plan? What could Hannibal possibly come up with to fix this, before Bosco was beyond fixing? He’d practically forgotten his own broken limb until his guard decided he wanted to have some fun himself, aiming a swift kick at his leg and reawakening all the agony Face had been trying to forget about. Again, he screamed behind his gag, dropping his chin to his chest and struggling to breathe through his nose, stunned when he heard Bosco’s hoarse voice shouting out.

“Leave him alone, man, that’s not the deal!” 

The smooth tones of the man in white addressed Face directly instead of replying to BA. “Eyes open, Lieutenant, and you won’t be hurt. Corporal Baracus is sacrificing himself to save you – the least you can do is watch.”

Blinking back involuntary tears of pain, Face managed to raise his head again, even as Hannibal started to speak. “Please, listen – ” But the colonel’s words stopped immediately at the distinctive sound of the safety being snapped off on the gun held to his throat.

And so it began, Face gagged and not permitted to look away, Hannibal free to speak but not having the answers he needed. It started as it had already begun, fists flying, deliberately aimed. Tied down as BA was, the angle of the punches were different, and the black suited gorillas were able to aim better at his legs and groin as well, Face wincing in sympathy as they seemed to take some sadistic pleasure in hitting hard between his lover’s strong legs. 

After some time it seemed fists simply weren’t enough, and the guards started getting creative as the white suited man just stood and watched, arms folded over his narrow chest. Smaller weights were dropped onto BA’s chest and stomach from shoulder height, eliciting grunts and gasps as they bounced heavily off his bruised and battered body. Thankfully, the guards still stayed clear of BA’s head, obviously not aiming to kill him yet, though Face knew that just one of those weights dropped on his lover’s skull would end things instantly. One guard produced a pocket knife and, after a nod of permission from his boss, started to cut away BA’s shirt none too carefully, leaving bright smears of red blood as it passed over the dark skin, and Face gasped himself around his disgusting gag.

His lover’s dark skin never showed bruises too well – there had been countless times in the past when Face hadn’t realised the other man was injured until he accidentally pressed too hard over a sensitive spot. But now, the bruises were undeniable even from a distance, darkened patches where pooled blood had started to gather beneath the skin, swollen areas that Face longed to be able to sooth with the aid of ice and a gentle kiss or two.

Of course, that was never going to be possible, not yet. Instead, the bruises served as targets for the gorillas, fists flying anew at their pinned captive, the blood from the shallow cuts smearing across BA’s muscular torso. The whole time, that knife was still out, held in front of BA’s still-open eyes, gleaming in the light. And Face just knew where this was going to go next.

 

_Now_

BA bolted upright in bed, breathing hard, instantly groaning in pain as his body reminded him why moving that fast was a really dumb idea. He wrapped his arms around his aching stomach, bending forwards and panting shallowly, trying to catch his breath around broken ribs and strained muscles, his head throbbing with remembered anguish as the last tendrils of his nightmare refused to leave him.

“Easy, Bosco, I’m here.” Face was up in an instant, strong arms wrapping immediately around his shoulders and tugging him sideways into a gentle embrace. BA turned gladly into his lover’s warm body, dropping his head to rest on Face’s solid shoulder, breathing as deeply as he could. Face smelled as he always did, of expensive shampoo and luxury face creams, of something citrus combined with a masculine musk, and something unique BA had never been able to place. Something just Face. Something that always calmed his heart and soothed him, whatever terrible situation they found themselves in.

Gradually, his racing heart started to slow to a near-normal rhythm, as he continued to just breathe. Face didn’t push him for answers, didn’t try to force him to talk, just held him safe in strong arms, rocking BA ever so slowly on the bed. It wasn’t often this way around – of the two of them, Face was the one prone to nightmares, the one most likely to wake up screaming and shouting. Over the years, particularly these last two years when they’d been together as lovers rather than just friends, BA had learnt how to calm the other man down, how to bring him back to reality. Now, Face was the one doing the comforting, gentle kisses placed to BA’s brow, arms firm but not too tight. Not restraining, just anchoring. 

Gradually, BA felt the real world solidify around him once more, Face’s strength holding him steady when the adrenaline drained away leaving him weak once again. He made no effort to pull away, though, relishing the feel of his lover’s toned torso against his own, broken ribs aside. It was so nice to rest on someone else’s strength for once, just for a moment. 

Face continued to just hold him, careful not to put too much pressure on the worst of his wounds, and eventually BA felt he could speak. “Thanks, Temp,” he murmured, turning his face into his lover’s shoulder even further. “I’m okay now.”

“You’re safe, Bosco. You’re here with me, and it’s all over.” Face’s voice was still rough from sleep, but BA could hear the raw emotions there too. The love and the fear and the worry, for him. “It’s over now, remember?”

“It’s not… It wasn’t that.” The nightmare was still there, hovering, though Face’s strong arms had chased away most of its power. “I know it’s over.”

A pause, more gentle rocking. Another kiss to his forehead. “Then, what was it? You want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t remember.” Too fast, and Face laughed softly, a bittersweet laugh in the quiet of the early morning.

“Yes you do. Talk to me, baby, please.” 

Again with the pet name, and again BA found he didn’t mind it at all. It felt more real, this thing between them, more real than it had ever been, and Face’s easy and affectionate use of that word made BA’s chest feel full and warm.

“I love you,” he started softly, burrowing further into his lover’s arms, ignoring the way every muscle in his body protested the action. He wanted to tell Face about his nightmare, or at least he thought he did, but he wasn’t at all sure how to phrase it. In the end he decided to just say it straight – fancy words and flowery phrases were Face’s domain, not his. “The dream was about you, not me. What they were going to do to you, not what they actually did to me.”

The rocking stopped for a moment, and Face’s arms tightened almost uncomfortably around BA’s shoulders before the con man whispered, “Oh. Oh, Bosco, you shouldn’t…”

“I know I shouldn’t think about it, Temp, but I can’t help it.” He swallowed hard, feeling a shiver ripple up his spine and out along his bruised limbs as that nightmare image appeared again before his mind’s eye. Of Face, being taken by that ape in a black suit. Of his lover being violated, and BA just watching, helpless to stop it.

The other man felt the shiver and somehow managed to shift them both back down until they were lying on the bed again, Face’s arms still keeping BA close and safe. A little more shuffling and then that sheet was pulled up around their shoulders, that extra layer making everything feel even more secure, chasing away the last of the nightmare at long last as BA concentrated on the steady sound of his lover’s heartbeat beneath his ear as he rested his head on Face’s chest.

“You can’t think about it,” Face murmured after a time. “You can’t dwell on what might have happened. It didn’t happen, you kept me safe. You kept their attention on you even though it nearly cost you…” The words faded away into silence, but BA knew exactly what Face was thinking of. 

“I know you’re safe. I know I kept you safe.” The pain wasn’t so bad lying like this, BA found, his weight supported by Face’s strong frame and the good drugs still coursing through his system. “And I know you would’ve been okay, eventually, if I hadn’t been able to stop it.”

“I would’ve been fine. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” BA squeezed his eyes shut at Face’s soft words. His lover had never admitted that much out loud to him before, though BA had long since figured it out from the other man’s worst nightmares. “You have to stop seeing yourself as the Saviour of the A Team.”

That got a tiny laugh out of BA. Him, the saviour of anything – that was just a ridiculous image. It was never about that, never had been about that. He knew in his heart that both Face and Murdock were Army Rangers through and through, despite appearances, knew that both of them were amongst the strongest and bravest men he had ever had the honour of knowing. But deep down, he still felt the urge to protect them, to keep them both safe whenever he could. Felt it even more so for Face, for Templeton, since that night more than two years ago when they had grabbed each other and kissed as if the world was about to end. Felt it more every day they were together, every wonderful day when their love seemed to grow stronger despite all the odds stacked against them. 

It was there for Hannibal too, of course, that urge to protect. It was slightly different for the colonel, though just as strong. Hannibal had given BA another chance when he had already wasted so many, pulling him back into the Rangers and making him a part of the most incredible team, making him feel worthwhile once again. BA owed Hannibal the deepest and most unbreakable loyalty, owed the older man everything he had, and in this case that had meant putting his body between the villain of the week and his colonel, until Hannibal had figured it all out. And, sure enough, he had figured it all out eventually, in time to save BA. 

“Stop thinking,” Face whispered, kissing him firmly on the nose as BA lifted his head a fraction. “Just, stop thinking about it all. I’m safe. You’re safe. And all this will heal up given time.” 

He knew his lover meant BA’s physical wounds, the burns and the cuts and the bruises and the broken ribs, not to mention Face’s own broken ankle, but at that moment the one thing he wished for more than anything was that the fools in the black suits hadn’t had quite so much fun working over his groin. This close to Face, breathing the same air and feeling every one of Face’s perfectly honed muscles pressed against his own, he wanted nothing more than to reconnect with his lover physically – sadly not even an option right now, though he knew it was really only a dream. Both of them were too exhausted and hurt for anything more than sleeping, but BA still breathed in the other man’s comforting scent over and over again, letting his eyes close and his head drop to the pillow.

He could tell the very moment Face drifted back into sleep, those locked arms loosening ever so slightly from around his body but not falling away. The feel of his lover’s chest rising and falling steadily against his own, even pressing against his broken ribs, was just the comfort BA needed to banish all thoughts of Face being in danger, and he truly felt they were all safe at last. Hannibal was no doubt awake in the kitchen, stubbornly keeping a watch in case any of his boys needed him, while Murdock would be sleeping off his own concussion in the second bedroom down the hall. All the team together, Face sleeping soundly in his arms, and the events of yesterday seemed very far away already.

 

_Then_

The men in the black suits weren’t really trained in the use of knives for torture, Face realised distantly, forcing his expression to remain calm even as his mind recoiled in horror at what he was being forced to watch. At what they were doing to his teammate, his friend, his lover. 

Casual slashes, nowhere near as focussed and precise as all those punches had been. The occasional stab, at a shoulder muscle, a hip bone, a thigh – nowhere likely to cause dramatic blood loss, at least, though the wounds were growing in number now, a small pool of BA’s blood forming beneath the bench he was tied to. Face hadn’t dared close his eyes since they’d started in with the knives, terrified BA would be killed and he wouldn’t know, though still his lover hadn’t looked over in his direction even once.

Not a single scream, still, only an increasing number of gasps and soft groans. BA had his jaw clenched so tightly that Face knew it had to hurt like hell. Those brown eyes were still open, just about, though the lines of pain around them were obvious even from the wall where Face stood watching helplessly, gun still pressed to his chest, gag still too tight around his mouth for anything more than a muffled scream. He had to assume it was deliberate; Bosco focussing on the ceiling in an attempt to take himself away mentally from the physical attack, rather than letting himself be distracted by Face. That made good sense, as much as there could be anything good here, but he still wanted Bosco to look at him, just once. Wanted the chance to tell the other man how much he was loved and admired, even if that could only be with a glance.

Hannibal hadn’t tried to speak since the last round of threats, though Face snuck sideways glances at his colonel whenever he thought he could risk it. The older man had a frown of concentration on his face, blue-grey eyes staring hard at the man in the white suit as if willing the knowledge to come to him. Three million dollars, and a brother named Carlo. Three million dollars, and the team were screwed. Face knew it wasn’t that Hannibal wasn’t concerned about what was happening to BA, quite the contrary in fact; it was more the fact that their only chance realistically lay with figuring out the whole mess and stopping the physical attack if they could.

As the knives continued to fly, punctuated by the occasional thud as a good old fashioned punch was thrown back into the mix, Face could see only one tiny glimmer of hope, and he knew without a doubt that Hannibal would have spotted it too. The team’s fourth member, limp and still for so long, was no longer quite so limp, though Murdock knew enough about waking up in an unfamiliar situation to play possum a little longer. The pilot’s skinny body still hung from his ropes just as he had done since he’d first been strung up, and his head still drooped lifelessly onto his chest, but there was a subtle tension in Murdock’s muscles that told Face his best friend was conscious at long last. The muscled idiot in the black suit, still holding a gun half-heartedly to Murdock’s chest, had clearly not noticed, remaining focussed on the scene in front of him as his colleagues slashed at a helpless man. 

“Enough!” The man in white stood up from where he had been perched on one of the pieces of gym equipment, and the black suited men immediately stopped their attack for the moment. “Colonel, exactly how much more do you think your man can take?” Out of the corner of his eye, Face saw Hannibal shake his head slowly, lips pursed tightly together, and their captor laughed once. “Ah, I see you’ve learned your lesson well – you may speak freely, for now.”

“You have to stop this,” Hannibal started immediately, straining against the ropes that held his arms so high above his head. “How many times do I have to tell you, we can’t answer your questions without more information?”

“Ah, then you do not deny that you can answer my questions at some point?”

The colonel growled, low and dangerous. “Don’t twist my words, damn you. We don’t know who you are, we don’t know who Carlos is, and we certainly don’t have three million dollars. Tell me who you are, give me a fucking clue, and maybe – ”

“We’ve been through this already, Colonel. I’m getting bored now.” With a wave of his hand, the white suited man summoned the guard away from Murdock’s still body, a wide smile suddenly on his face. “Time to take this up another level, I think.” 

For a second Face didn’t see it, but then the guard produced a cigarette lighter from his pocket, flicking it on and off a few times. Hannibal growled again before falling silent, but Face couldn’t just stand and watch as the flickering flame was lowered towards BA’s exposed arm. He started struggling again, yanking hard on his ropes, tearing his wrists further, knocking his damaged ankle back into the wall accidentally and not even caring. Trying to shout through the gag, trying to stop it all, trying to get free. Ignoring the gun that was suddenly raised from his chest and aimed between his eyes.

“Something to say, Lieutenant?” The man in white, the bastard pulling the strings of this whole sick pantomime, was suddenly in front of him, pulling his gag away and gripping Face’s chin with a surprisingly strong hand. “Well? You know what I want to hear.”

“Leave him alone,” Face choked out, still struggling. “Just leave him the fuck alone. Stop it.”

“Oh, what a shame. And there was I thinking you were finally going to be useful.” The man tutted as he stepped back again, letting go of Face’s jaw as he did so, but leaving the gag off. “Oh well, now perhaps I can hear you scream as well as the brave Corporal.” With a casual wave of his hand, the guard with the lighter lowered it the last few inches. 

And BA screamed for the first time.

The next few minutes were among the longest of Face’s life, though he knew his pain was nothing compared to what his lover was going through. Other guards produced lighters too, holding the bright flames to dark skin, ripping scream after scream from BA’s throat. Some actually produced cigarettes, lighting them slowly and taking a single drag before putting them out deliberately on their captive, and Face gave up trying to fight back hot tears of anger at his lover’s brutal treatment. 

With the gag gone, he knew he should be begging, pleading, praying even. But he knew, deep down, that it would make no difference. Instead, he gritted his teeth, watching silently as the tears ran down his face. How much more could BA take? How much longer before he passed out from the pain? Surely that would be a mercy, at this point.

“Stop!” Hannibal suddenly shouted, and the man in white paused the proceedings with a simple raised hand, his gorillas well-trained even in their frenzy. “Charles Martin. Was your brother Charles Martin?”

Face frowned, trying to blink his vision clear as he stared at BA’s still body, at the burns and the blood and the bruises. His lover’s eyes were closed now, though Face could tell he was still conscious. Had Hannibal finally figured out who the hell this madman was?

There was a long pause, and there was silence apart from the sound of BA’s shallow and ragged breathing. Eventually, the man in white shook his head once, that hand still held out in front of him. “No. But he was born Carlos Martinez.” 

“Mafia…” Face breathed, putting some of the pieces together suddenly though still not seeing the bigger picture, and Hannibal nodded.

“Charles Martin was part of a small gang we were hired to stop in New York, nearly four years ago. A gang that were working for the local Mafia, though we didn’t realise that at first.” Hannibal’s words were hurried, fast and urgent, and Face found his heart beat faster as his adrenaline started to pick up in response. “I remember Charles being one of the drivers for the gang, just a go-to guy. We had no direct dealings with him – the gang leaders were arrested and delivered to the local police, while the rest of the gang were taken away by the Mafia heavies.”

“Taken where?” Urgency in their captor’s voice now, and barely repressed anger. “You handed my brother over to the Mafia, and they took him where?”

“We didn’t hand him over, he was taken.” Face picked up the thread of the narrative, clearing his throat and trying to stand a little taller. Not able to stop his eyes drifting back to Bosco’s still body. Not glancing over at Murdock, who was now squirming ever so slightly where he hung forgotten on the far wall. “We were out of our depth, and the gang had been disbanded, which was our only aim. We never laid a finger on him, and we certainly didn’t see any sign of three million dollars.”

“Liars!” For the first time, the man in white lashed out himself, landing a vicious kick on BA’s exposed chest, wringing a feeble cry from the beaten man. “You’ve lied this whole time, and you are lying now! My brother, my Carlos was the leader of that gang, and he had my money. If you handed him over, you must have taken it. I have witnesses who saw you with the cash!”

Searching his memory for the mental tally he kept of the team’s expenses, Face remembered, “We were paid ten thousand dollars by the resident’s association who hired us. That was in cash. Hardly three million.”

Unnoticed, Murdock slipped his left hand free of the ropes that held him, his thumb clearly dislocated and collapsed in on itself. Blood coated his slender hand, but the pilot didn’t pause as he quickly but quietly loosened the remaining ropes from around his other hand, letting his weight drop fully to the floor and steadying himself as best he could.

“Sounds to me like your brother is the one who lied to you about his position,” Hannibal announced, a grim smile on his lips. Face recognised that look from so many other missions over the years, both in the Rangers and since they had been on the run – that was the look his colonel got when he finally figured everything out. “Whatever he did with your money, we never saw it. And we never saw what happened to him. You’ve got the wrong men.”

For a long moment, everyone in the room stood frozen in place, before BA rasped out, “Fool…” And everything suddenly happened at once. 

With a shrieking cry, Murdock launched himself across the room and managed to get a knife away from one of the black suited men, his sudden attack both unexpected and incredibly effective. In the chaos that ensued, it seemed the guns were forgotten as all the gorillas drew their knives, diving straight for the pilot who managed to dance his way through them all, his slight and nimble figure far faster than their bulky frames. The man in white shouted out in horror as his pristine suit was suddenly sprayed with bright red blood, Murdock lashing out with his captured knife and taking down two of the guards with one quick motion before dropping to his knees and cutting away the ropes that held BA to the bench.

“Behind you, buddy!” Face called out in warning, but Murdock was already moving again, kicking and jumping and weaving, whooping with manic laughter the whole time. As two of the black suited guards collided in the space where he had been, the pilot practically dived across the room to where Hannibal hung, cutting swiftly through the thick ropes that held the colonel’s arms up, before turning to Face.

But Face only had eyes for Bosco at that moment. Against all odds, it seemed his lover had some strength still in him – the very moment his restraints had been cut away, BA had managed to haul himself upright and snatch at one of the weights that had been dropped on him, using it as a club to swiftly take down two more of the guards. With Hannibal joining the fight now, though his hands were still tied in front of him, they swiftly incapacitated the remaining men, until only the white suited man remained, backed up against the far wall, chin held high in a determined if pointless pose. 

“I should kill you for what you’ve done today,” Hannibal growled, standing at his full height, a single knife held in his bound hands. Behind him, BA had dropped back to the bench, his face a mask of agony now the danger had mostly passed, and Face tugged at his ropes even as Murdock sawed determinedly through them. He hadn’t heard Hannibal that pissed for a very long time, years in fact, but he knew deep down that his colonel still had a strong sense of honour. The brother of Carlos Martinez, aka Charles Martin, wouldn’t be killed, not by them at least.

“Then do it, Colonel Smith.” Despite his words of bravado, the man in white couldn’t help but flinch as Hannibal stepped closer.

“Remember this: you need to talk to Enrico Maccione. You can usually find him at Denny’s Diner in downtown Manhattan.” Hannibal smiled at their captor’s obvious confusion. “He was our contact in the local Mafia when we were there, though that was years ago now. If anyone can find out what happened to your brother and your money, it will be him. But don’t expect him to respond well if you try this kind of crap again. Do you understand me?”

The white suited man nodded quickly, his face suddenly as pale as his suit. “I understand,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

“You might not thank me in the morning.” And with that, Hannibal dropped his knife and lashed out with both fists, connecting solidly with the smaller man’s nose and smashing his head back into the wall with a sickening crunch, knocking him out cold and sending him crashing to the floor in a bloody heap. 

But Face didn’t care about that, didn’t care about anything, he just needed to get to Bosco. Murdock seemed to be taking forever to get him free, after being so quick with their other two teammates, but suddenly the ropes gave way and Face found himself falling, unable to stop himself crying out as his broken ankle suddenly announced itself all over again.

“Easy there, Facey,” the pilot soothed, catching him beneath his arms and steadying him, tugging his jeans back up with his bloody hand and deftly fastening the buttons. “Here we go now.”

In seconds, Face was seated on the floor by BA’s side with his injured leg stretched out in front of him, holding his lover’s hand as tightly as he could manage with his own numb fingers. He could only watch as Hannibal and Murdock immediately started first aid, pressing down over the deepest of the stab wounds, avoiding the worst of the burns.

“Bosco?” Face whispered, staring intently at his lover’s pain-filled expression, willing those dark eyes to open again and finally look at him. “It’s over, you’re going to be fine. We’ve got you now.”

“Temp?” It was barely more than a breath, but it was enough. Face forced a smile to his lips as BA blinked his eyes open just a fraction, managing to tilt his head until they were looking at each other. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay, you stubborn, stupid, brave idiot.” That would have been more impressive if his voice hadn’t broken on the last two words, but BA’s tiny smile told Face his message had been received and understood. He leaned up as far as he could manage and pressed his lips to his lover’s in a quick but heartfelt kiss – not something they ever did in front of Hannibal and Murdock usually, though of course their teammates knew all about their relationship and accepted it without question – and for a brief and wonderful second BA kissed him back. 

“Face. Kid?” That was Hannibal, of course, pulling his focus back to the here and now, and he shook himself lightly, forcing his emotions back down as BA’s eyes fell shut and his expression went lax, pain-free at last. They weren’t home and safe yet; there was still work to be done, and Face threw everything he had left into helping Hannibal bind up the worst of his lover’s wounds while Murdock went in search of transport. There would be time later for lecturing Bosco about how stupid he’d been, and time for both of them to reassure the other. Time for everything once they got the hell out of there.

 

_After_

By lunchtime the following day, BA was starting to finally feel more human again. The combination of strong painkillers, soft mattress and good food, in addition to the comforting presence of his lover and his team, made the memory of what he’d been through in that basement seem very far away indeed. Those memories were still there, though, and he knew he would probably be revisiting them in his dreams sooner or later, though hopefully not until his physical injuries had faded.

He’d learned quickly not to try to move more than a few inches by himself. The simple act of trying to sit up to drink his coffee that morning had nearly reduced him to tears, and it had taken all three of his friends to get him to the bathroom and back. But Face was there practically every moment of the day, and Hannibal and Murdock too. As much as BA hated to accept any kind of help, he knew he needed it now, knew he had to rest his battered body as much as he could in order to recover as fast as possible. He couldn’t help anyone like this, couldn’t protect them if something happened.

To be fair, though, all four of them needed to rest and recuperate. Face’s broken ankle would be in plaster for at least six weeks, much to the other man’s complete horror, but BA had managed to get his lover to take his painkillers by refusing to take his own until Face complied. Of course that meant Face having to frequently leave their cosy bed to hobble on his crutches into the bathroom when his nausea got too much, but at least the rest of the time he was able to curl up by BA’s side and stroke comforting hands over his aching body.

Murdock’s concussion wasn’t too serious a problem in the end, though it was always quite hard to tell if their pilot’s brains had been scrambled since he was pretty much crazy to start with. The cut on his temple had been easily closed with a couple of butterfly stitches, and while the bruising had spread across his forehead and down over one eye to his cheek, Murdock had been the one to patch up the worst of BA’s wounds last night, his steady hands producing the smallest and neatest stitches even after he’d dislocated his thumb to get out of the ropes.

“Double jointed!” he’d announced cheerfully as he’d sewn up cut after cut, popping his thumb out of place and back in again as a demonstration. “Can do it with my big toes as well.”

“Don’t ever show me that,” Hannibal had grumbled as he’d busied himself cleaning and dressing some of the cigarette burns on BA’s chest, careful not to put pressure on his broken ribs. Even as he dozed in his blissful drugged haze, only dimly aware of what his team were doing to him, BA had been able to tell the colonel had gone more than a little green around the edges at the very thought. 

The whole time they’d worked, BA had been aware of Face’s presence in the armchair in the far corner of their bedroom. He’d wanted to be closer, BA knew, but his lover was in enough pain himself, plus there really wasn’t the room for all three of them to be working over his battered body. Face should have gone straight to the hospital really, but he’d refused to leave until he’d seen with his own eyes that BA was going to be okay. Truth be told, BA hadn’t wanted Face to leave either, glad of the other man’s company, even as he’d just lain there and let his teammates take care of him.

Hannibal had come out of the whole sorry affair relatively uninjured. Some bumps and bruises from the crash, rope burns around his wrists as they all had, and a deep bruise on his throat from where the barrel of that gun had been pressed for so long. But BA could tell their colonel was beating himself up about the whole thing, blaming himself for not remembering sooner who Carlos had been. It was obvious in the way Hannibal was hovering; though he always hovered when any of his three boys were injured, it was rare for it to be BA in need of care.

BA lay still on the bed now, watching as Hannibal finished changing the last of the dressings on his chest, Face propped up on one elbow by his side, Murdock clattering about in the kitchen nearby. He waited until his colonel had taped the last bandage into place and started gathering up the soiled dressings, waited until Face had helped him take his painkiller, before speaking up.

“Just so you know, boss, I don’t blame you.” 

Hannibal went completely still for a long moment, not meeting BA’s eyes, before continuing his clean-up mission. “I should have remembered sooner,” he murmured after a moment, clearly knowing exactly what BA was talking about. “I could’ve stopped it if I’d remembered sooner.”

“It wasn’t your fault, man. No more than it was my fault for not bein’ able to get the van away when they first came after us, before we crashed. No more than it was Face’s fault for not being able to charm the pants off that dude in the white suit. No more than – ”

“I get it, I get it.” Hannibal nodded, a tiny smile hovering on his lips now, finally lifting his blue-eyes eyes to look at BA. “Still, I wish I had remembered.”

“How did you figure it out in the end?” Face asked Hannibal curiously, stroking one hand slowly up and down BA’s arm. “What gave it away?” 

The tiny smile turned into a typical Hannibal Smith grin, some of the gleam reappearing in his eyes. “Was just trying to think outside the box. Went through every Carlos I knew, then every Charles, trying to think if there was any family resemblance to our friend in white. Got there in the end.”

“Nicely done, Colonel!” Face bumped fists gently with Hannibal over BA’s prone body, before adding cheekily, “Not bad for an old man!”

“Brat,” growled their colonel, but there was no real anger or fire in his voice after the events of the last day, just a long-suffering fondness. BA knew just how close Hannibal and Face had always been – he also knew there was no need for jealousy, as the two men had been family for so long. A comfortable silence descended on the room as Hannibal continued to clean up the medical supplies, before BA suddenly had a thought, a question of his own.

Stroking his own hand over his lover’s bandaged wrist, he asked Face, “How did you explain this at the hospital last night?” All four of them wore matching white bracelets of soft gauze, to protect the rope-burns and torn skin they’d suffered. Hannibal had been the one to take Face to the local hospital late last night, once BA had finally been cleaned and bandaged up to his satisfaction, but there would have been no way to hide the injuries. Questions would have been asked, surely, awkward questions. 

Face’s wide grin made him immediately regret asking the question, but it was too late to take it back. “Easy as pie,” his lover announced, and Hannibal winced. “Told them me and the colonel here had been having kinky sex when I fell out of bed and broke my ankle. They didn’t ask too many questions after that!”

“Now there’s an image I could do without!” announced Murdock cheerfully as he appeared in the doorway, a heavily laden tray in his hands. The wonderful smell of coffee and freshly baked cakes filled the room as he crossed to sit on the edge of the bed, and Hannibal immediately busied himself unloading the contents of the tray onto the bedside table, though BA didn’t miss the deep flush of embarrassment which spread over their colonel’s cheeks at Face’s comments. 

Face helped BA to sit up a little more on the pillows before handing him a mug of coffee and a slice of cake, and for a few minutes the four of them were quiet, just being together, coming down properly from the adrenaline rush of the mission followed by the nightmare of their capture, then their escape. BA wasn’t usually one for thinking deep thoughts, for questioning what they had going for them, but he found he was almost overwhelmingly grateful to have these three men by his side. It was the drugs, it had to be. 

Face, his best friend and lover all rolled into one gorgeous, funny, brilliant package. Murdock, insane and annoying for sure, but his little brother for life. And Hannibal, older brother, father figure, commanding officer, friend – the man BA would follow to the end of the earth and back again.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one thinking such things. Face abruptly put his mug down before lifting BA’s arm and carefully snuggling close against his side, a small sigh escaping his perfect lips. BA just pulled him a little closer without a word – it didn’t put too much pressure on his ribs, and Face’s warmth more than made up for the slight ache from his wounds. 

“Promise me something,” Face started softly, and BA frowned. They didn’t do this in front of their teammates, not really. They didn’t cuddle or kiss, didn’t talk romantic nonsense. It wasn’t out of any sense of shame over their relationship, it was more out of habit as well as respect for the other two men. Living in such close quarters, being on the run as they were, they didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable – BA had shared living accommodations with a couple in love before, many years back, and he’d spent the entire time feeling like a third wheel. 

When his lover seemed unable to continue, BA gently prompted, “Temp?”

“Just… Don’t do that again, okay?” Face lifted those bright blue eyes to stare at him, and BA could see just how serious the other man was. The joking and teasing was gone – this was his other half asking him not to take crazy risks to protect him again.

He thought about it for a long moment, aware that both Hannibal and Murdock had fallen still, watching him closely and listening to the conversation. “I don’t know if I can promise that,” he admitted eventually. “If the same thing happened again, if it was a case of me or you – any of you – I don’t know that I wouldn’t do it again. It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it worked, but at what cost?” That was Murdock, sounding more serious than he had a right to be. Their pilot had been unconscious for most of the time BA had been beaten, but he’d obviously been filled in on the events by the other two men, and he’d certainly seen for himself the extent of his friend’s injuries. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes,” BA answered immediately. “It was worth it. You can’t tell me it wasn’t.”

“Still, maybe next time you stand down when I tell you to.” Hannibal, now, and BA knew his colonel had a point. He’d refused a direct order, and if they’d still been in the Army he knew he’d be punished for that. As it was – “Once you’re back on your feet, you owe me several hard laps around the obstacle course of my choosing.”

“Yes, Sir.” If his arms weren’t wrapped around his lover BA would have saluted, but instead he settled for nodding at the older man, receiving a tiny nod in return. He wasn’t fool enough to think that was the end of the matter, and he knew Hannibal would wait until he was back on his feet before really getting into long discussions with him, but for now it was enough.

As abruptly as it had turned serious, the atmosphere in the room suddenly lightened, as Murdock started babbling on about the different qualities of cake and which superheroes would prefer chocolate over vanilla. Face joined in almost immediately, though he didn’t move away from BA’s side, one hand resting protectively on BA’s chest over the fresh bandages, and Hannibal just sat back with a smile on his face, sipping slowly from his mug of coffee. 

BA just let it all wash over him and around him. His painkiller was kicking in properly now, making him sleepy once again, and he was warm and safe and comfortable, full of coffee and cake. He had his lover wrapped carefully around his side, he had the rest of his crazy family safely in the room around him, and yes, he hurt like hell, but he’d heal soon enough. It had all been worth it, and he fell asleep to the sound of crazy fools talking about cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at ATeam-Prompts:
> 
> I would really love to see a fic where the guys are captured on a mission and the Villains of the Week decide to get back at them through your typical torture and interrogation fare. And then B.A. becomes the center of negative attention in that regard, and suffers the most damage from it. What can I say? He's my favorite. 
> 
> Bonus points if B.A. deliberately causes trouble to protect the others, even against Boss's orders and all common pain-free sense. I'm cool with any pairings if that's a route you prefer to take! Happy endings are always nice but you are basically free to do whatever you want with it.
> 
> I'd just really like to see some B.A. whump and H/C and the rest of the guys worrying/having to settle for doing what they can to help until an opportunity to escape presents itself.


End file.
